


Room for Dessert

by ChocoSweets



Series: Bakery Orders [3]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: 4Dante - Freeform, Alcohol, Belly Fucking, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Bottom Dante (Devil May Cry), Clothing Kink, Cowgirl Position, Devil May Cry 4 (Game), Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feeding Kink, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Large Cock, M/M, Multi, Pet Names, Prompt Fill, Reader-Insert, Stuffing, Topping, Tumblr Prompt, Weight Gain, belly kisses, chubby Dante
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:35:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29968542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoSweets/pseuds/ChocoSweets
Summary: In which you help Dante with digestion, and maybe things get a bit out of hand.
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Reader, Dante (Devil May Cry)/You
Series: Bakery Orders [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199459
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	Room for Dessert

**Author's Note:**

> Anon said:
>
>> _consider: reader topping chubby Dante_
> 
> Anon, you're speaking my language… I may have gone overboard but I could Not resist. I also wanted to write 4Dante (especially for his outfit) so that’s what this ended up being.
> 
> 🧁 Send requests [here](https://forms.gle/MiZoZqePSLne2kLy6) or [here](https://chocosweets.tumblr.com/ask)! 🧁  
> 🧁 [Masterlist](https://chocosweets.tumblr.com/masterlist) 🧁  
> 🧁 [Tumblr](https://chocosweets.tumblr.com) 🧁

“Mmm, come over here, babe...”

He drawls it out sugary-sweet, eyes angled and devious. His lashes practically flutter as he looks to you. 

That massive weight of his is propped onto the couch next to the mini-fridge, where he’d just reached for a beer. Lately, Dante’s been reclining back into the sofa instead of his usual desk chair after meals, simply because it’s a little too uncomfortable when he’s all full like this. (And, well, his butt and thighs have become a tad bit too plush for the wooden seat, and they push over the back and sides; these cushions are much more cozy.)

You move over from where you’d been sitting at the barstool, and slide down next to him. “What is it, Dante?~” You can’t help but grab his arm, and then run your other fingers across his chest. 

His free hand runs over the front of his full, protruding gut—it’s tantalizing. “You’ll give me some belly rubs, won’t you, baby?” The fabric of his black shirt clings tightly around the girth of his stomach, so small that the hem rolls up and a little bit of his chub sticks out at the bottom, hanging over his silver belt and waistband. It’s tight around the whole curve—struggling even moreso now because of the dizzying amount of pizza he’d just downed. 

“Oh, is my darling aching?~” Leaning even closer into him, you move the hand at his chest downward and rest your palm softly at the crest of his belly. Only his chest strap remains; the golden buckles of his stomach holster straps had stopped fitting last month. It's a miracle in itself that his shirt can even zipper up all the way. Even so, his fat, meaty moobs strain the strap, and the zipper can't go past the bottom half of his chest—a large chunk of his hairy cleavage stays exposed, always pressing against the metal ridges of the zipper. 

“Only a little...” he grumbles huskily, clinking open his beer can. “More like this’ll help me with digestion, though. I gotta make some room for dessert.” (Fondly pats his gut at the side as he says it, too.) 

That was certainly an enticing prospect. An interested heat sparks in you, and you reach for his exposed skin first. It’s the plushest part of his underbelly—a little colder than the rest of him from not being clothed. You move to pinch some of the fat teasingly (there’s a good few inches you can grab), earning a quiet mewl from Dante’s lips at the rim of the metal. 

“Go easy on me, huh?~” But he purrs in the same breath. 

You giggle in a huff, reaching for the golden zipper of his dark shirt, gradually pulling it down over his plumpness—it gets stuck a few times past the highest part of his heavy curve, but you manage. When the sides part, Dante exhales in relief. Now bare, you can see the tufts of silvery-white hair that make a fine line from his crotch to his deep belly button. You trace there, up and back down, the warmth of your fingertip matching Dante’s body heat.

“Ahhh, you’re so full...” you mumble dreamily, as if in a trance. You start at the top and rub in circles along the width of his belly. Soothingly, the pads of your fingers massage into the middle part of his gut, sinking into the chub and rubbing the ache away. Some moans do definitely come out of him. You can’t help yourself and grasp some of his fat as you move along, too, touching the stretched skin and ample rolls at his waist—then playing with his belly button, sticking your pointer finger inside and swirling it around a few times as he keens gloriously.

He looks so plump and cushy all spread out, as he throws his beer back and  _ gulps _ loud. Golden liquid drips from his lips, intermingling with the droplets of sauce still at the corners of his mouth. "You've got magic hands, babe," he hums, reaching out to grip your shoulder. "Don't stop..."

"I wouldn't dream of it." It's true. Your tips crawl back up and find his chest. Even though you're supposed to be massaging his full gut, you cop a quick grope of those tits you adore. They overflow your clenched fists as you squeeze, the fat pliable at the contact. Dante bites his lip and tightens his hold on your shoulder.

This time, though, he grinds into your touch—and you feel a spark fizzle throughout your body. He pushes into your hands,  _ jiggling _ all over and putting pressure onto you. His gut closes the distance and you're  _ squished _ between him and the side of the armrest. He can just barely reach to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You can feel his heat, and every curve of his blubber, and where his tummy dimples at his belly button. Your cheeks grow rosy, and he chuckles under his breath.

" _ Well _ , you're easy," he remarks almost cruelly, just as he finishes the last of his beer. 

Then he crushes the empty can in his fist, the metal crinkling crisply. Tosses it to the floor.

You  _ have _ to have him now, especially after that little bit of teasing. You make your move, "You should lie down, Dante." There are convenient pillows on the couch leaning against the other armrest. "You're all mine tonight."

"Fine by me," he puffs back lazily, pulling away from your body. There’s a proud sort of smirk on his lips, and then he flops backward into the couch, neck propped against the pillows. The rest of him lays flat, his arms crossed behind his head and eyes glazed. 

Dante is always fat and satiated like a housecat after his big meals, so it's easy to get him to let you top. Whenever he begs for belly rubs, it usually ends up with you fucking him into oblivion anyway.

You straddle him, spreading your legs wide just to accommodate and sit comfy. His thighs are chunky and rounded rubbing against you, and so is the dip of his belly. It's squishy and dense like a marshmallow, still fluffy at his pinching waistband. Your fingers unfasten his obnoxiously big belt buckle and then unbutton his pants. The flaps spread, revealing his boner. His tummy hangs free and sinks into his lap—and brushes up against your own crotch. The pressure on his own cock makes him squirm.

Underneath, Dante sighs and goes to scratch his underbelly where his pants had left red lines. " _ Damn _ , that feels  _ good _ …" His smile is serene as his gut ripples from the aftermath, icy blue irises lulling shut.

You replace his hand with your own when he pulls back, stroking along the smooth, fatty expanse of flesh there, and the pad that hangs over his dick softly. When you continue kneading there, you only see his erection grow harder.

You grab it, and he lurches—letting out a hot breath. 

"I'll handle _ this _ —" and you squeeze his thick cock again to emphasize the word. He makes a noise of delight as you do, your fingers brushing over the rigid veins.

"Just be gentle with my pizza belly, alright?" he moans through a long, bubbly belch. And you know he means it, because he's come close to vomiting after a large meal when jostled around before. All of that rich alcohol he's just drank probably doesn't help the threatening slushing of his stomach contents. 

Again, Dante reaches to rub the heaviest, fullest part of his tummy, ending the motion with a few pats. He yawns scrumptiously.

"I can't promise anything," you sing, pattering your fingers along his belly like you would atop piano keys. You can hear it gurgling. 

You press his stomach back with one hand and lift his cock out with the other. Sticky, oozing precum drips onto your palm, but you pay it no mind. The head is red and throbbing like a cherry. 

When you grasp his belly to make room, he buckles his hips toward you— _ needy _ . 

“Ah, ah,” you chide, smirking over him. Left hand caresses his cock up and down the shaft, right hand squeezes his blubber. “When I say so. You could still use a few more good rubs to help digestion, don't you think? I don’t want you throwing up, after all.”

He scoffs. "What a tease…" You think it's ironic considering how much he'd been goading you earlier. "You're unbearable."

"You don't mean that," you coo, suddenly affectionate. Your neck bends over and you press a sloppy kiss right above his belly button. When you nibble the skin there a little, too, Dante laughs lowly. You feel the rumble of it against him.

As much as you'd like to keep up the foreplay, admittedly you can't go much longer without feeling him in you. Your heat is quivering at the thought. His tip is plush and you thumb over it. You poise yourself, and push down into it, your hole encompassing it as it slides in fully.

That belly falls against you when you let go, filling up your lap—it makes you shiver. You splay your hands on it as you thrust, framing it with your palms. As would be for the best, you aren't so rough with fucking his belly, and you end up leaning forward to almost  _ embrace _ it. 

The roundness of his gut is perfect for grinding into. It lights a fire in you and you press on, peppering more kisses along his trail of hairs and then even past his belly button. Your lips are soft but his chub is softer. You can't get enough of the feeling—the feeling of ramming your sensitive parts into him as his cock tickles your insides, pumping in and out. Your own chest is squished against his tummy and you hug him  _ tighter,  _ feeling every inch.

You cry out with his twitching dick still inside you, racking your walls, and press long and hard against that fat belly—humping it with your sex and squeezing it between your thighs until you're positively certain he’ll have angry red marks there in your wake. 

Surely he'll have enough room for dessert after this?

**Author's Note:**

> 🧁 Send requests [here](https://forms.gle/MiZoZqePSLne2kLy6) or [here](https://chocosweets.tumblr.com/ask)! 🧁  
> 🧁 [Masterlist](https://chocosweets.tumblr.com/masterlist) 🧁  
> 🧁 [Tumblr](https://chocosweets.tumblr.com) 🧁


End file.
